


Discipline

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3050474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron hires Vortex for his <i>other</i> specialist skills. </p>
<p>Set before the war.</p>
<p>Written for Kyraneko on Tumblr to this prompt: Vortex/Megatron, consensual BDSM in either direction. Any method.</p>
<p>Contains reference to p/n/p, energy fields, BDSM including suspension and whipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

"Sir?" Vortex queried, stepping up to Megatron's desk and standing to attention. Behind him a guard closed the office door. 

"Please sit," Megatron said. "Before we start I want to make something clear. This room is not bugged, and this conversation is strictly off the record. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Vortex replied. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that, although it wasn't usually the Decepticon leader who called him to off-the-record meetings. 

"Excellent," Megatron said, steepling his fingers and watching Vortex with an oddly intense glare. "What I am about to say is subject to the strictest confidentiality."

"Of course," Vortex said, flicking a rotor. 

Megatron coughed. "The details must not leave this room."

"Sure," Vortex said. "I'm Intel, it's what we do. Check my service record, I plug leaks, I don't cause them."

"Of course," Megatron said. "But it is not your service record that concerns me. Rather it is your former career."

"Which one, sir?" Vortex asked. After his first long stint in the military, he'd escaped to civilian life to an endless round of temporary jobs. It had taken so long for him to settle down, for Onslaught to seek him out and offer him something more permanent. And he'd still be there, Onslaught's trouble-shooter and confidante, if this new war hadn't come along. 

"'Which one?'" Megatron seemed amused. "I have it on record that you spent some time working as a... hired disciplinarian."

Vortex stared. Where had Megatron learnt that?

"You did, did you not?"

Vortex reset his vocaliser. "Well yeah, sure. That was a long time ago."

"I am assured by various of my staff that you still possess the skills you employed back then."

Vortex was suddenly grateful for his mask. "Well sure," he said. "I didn't charge them though, that was for fun. It's not against regu-"

"I am willing to pay to engage your services," Megatron interrupted, his mouth set in a stiff frown. 

Vortex didn't bother giving it a moment's thought, this was just too good. "Who for?" he said. "And what do you want me to do?"

"For myself," Megatron replied, pushing a data slug across the table. "I have made a list."

* * *

Vortex had to admit, this was rather fun. Aside from all the luscious juicy gossip he was hoarding (and you never knew when that might come in handy), he'd forgotten how good it felt to wield a full-length electro-whip. Not to mention the paddles, the charge inhibitors, the clips applied to all of Megatron's delicate movable parts, and the things he could do with the inside of his leader's gun barrel. 

And as for having the warlord bound in front of him, suspended prone and vulnerable. It was delicious. 

Vortex lashed the silver armour, adding a slender smoking trail to a network of slightly older welts. The only downside was no plugging in; he couldn't taste the feedback from Megatron's sensor net, share in the snap of the whip and the sting of burning nodes. 

But he could press close to Megatron's energy field, space out the beatings with a teasing fluctuation from his own field, bring Megatron to the brink of overload again and again only to deny him at the last moment and bring the whip back into play. 

Vortex selected a shock stick from the rack of approved entertainment devices, and turned it up to maximum. He circled his subject, noting the dimmed optics, the sparks spitting intermittently from his exposed interface array. He plucked a connector and flicked his tongue across the end, then ever so gently touched it to the tip of the shock stick. 

Megatron thrashed as far as the harness allowed, and Vortex watched for the signal that it was too much. But Megatron stilled, his vents whirring, his fans on high. Then his energy field flared with the pre-arranged signal for _more_ , and Vortex's engine purred. He consulted the list, dragging the tip of the shock stick through the outer edge of Megatron's energy field while he considered where next to put it. Oh yes, this was so much more fun than he ever could have imagined.


End file.
